


White Frost

by Nathalaia



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Fantasy, M/M, MAMAverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 04:09:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2607983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nathalaia/pseuds/Nathalaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s frozen and will stay like that until the end of time. That is his punishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Frost

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this fic was borne from the lines in the Description. I randomly came up with them some days ago and was bombarded with ideas. Hence, here we are.
> 
> For the WF poster, check link: http://i.imgur.com/AThaxcl.png  
> (Credits go to http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/847707/spotlight-posters-open-hiring-angst-graphics-poster-request-romance-postershop-graphicshop)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Night slowly settles over the city, reaching out with its long arms and shrouding everything in darkness. The moon, high on the sky with stray stars seemingly strewn carelessly around it, sends a soft light to the city, joining the illumination from streetlights and windows leading to rooms where the light has been left on and forgotten, or maybe there are people still there, reading or watching something on the television, lingering in their avoidance of sleep.

It’s quiet, with the exception of a few cars passing by once in a while and the wind’s whistling. Not that it’s a particularly windy evening. It’s just enough for the world to feel its movement, for it to tug at clothes and strands of hair and make its presence known. Faint, but there.

The public park is deserted, save for one young man seated on a bench. The moon rays and surrounding lamp posts light up his handsome face, with cheeks almost on the chubby side, and dark brown eyes that have the ability to convey an array of emotions; however, on this particular evening, his gaze appears pensive, maybe even solemn. His left earlobe is pierced, a simple silver earring. At a closer look, it turns out the silver is shaped like a snowflake. His lips are a pale shade of pink, full and soft, and once upon a time, they would often widen in a happy or cheeky smile, but once upon a time was long ago.

The hair on his head, styled in an orderly mess, is a warm, dark brown colour. He doesn’t appear bothered by the chilly autumn air foreboding the winter’s coming, even when he’s dressed in the sleeveless grey blouse, his black, fitted jeans providing little protection. Even his shoes are worn and thin, though he pays no mind.

His name is Kim Minseok and he hasn’t left the park in years. He lost count what seems like ages ago, and might as well have been.

With his elbows on his knees, he rests his chin on the palm of his left hand, the other limp on his lap. His gaze is on the man in front of him. Unlike Minseok, who can leave if he wants to, this man cannot.

The other is Kim Jongdae. His face is sharp with eyes the colour of dark chocolate, usually sparkling with mirth or happiness, but now slightly narrowed, staring straight into the air. His kittenish lips are parted, only just, and yet not a single breath escapes him. The silky-looking locks of hair don’t sway when the wind tries to lure them into play. Not even one strand.

He, too, is clad in clothes unfitting for the season, but he senses not the cold. His arms hang down his side, hands fisted, feet planted solid on the ground.

If one were to look closer, one might notice that a thin layer of ice covers every inch of pale skin.

Jongdae is frozen. Even time itself has stopped for him.

Minseok has guarded him ever since he became like this. He’s spent hour upon hour sitting on the bench and staring at the frozen male. During these times, his gaze never shows anything else but longing and regret. If he becomes restless, he stands, maybe even ventures out on a walk around the park. But he never leaves Jongdae, never lets him out of his sight.

Sometimes, he talks. Sometimes it’s whispers, incomprehensible to human ears, and other times he screams until his throat feels raw and it hurts to swallow. Sometimes he talks about the weather, sometimes of times long gone. Sometimes he talks about his thoughts, sometimes of the loneliness he feels, of the guilt that threatens to tear him apart, to destroy him inside out.

But, more often than not, he doesn’t say a word.

This evening is no different from any of the others that have passed, as far as Minseok is concerned. It’s not often people pass by at this time of night, but it isn’t unheard of either. Minseok is used to being invisible, so he pays little mind to the couple walking down the road towards him, chatting animatedly with each other and laughing. It’s only when they suddenly turn quiet that he forces his eyes away from Jongdae’s frozen form to look at the couple.

They are staring at Jongdae, but that can’t be. Like Minseok, no one can see Jongdae.

“What happened to him?” one of them asks and turns to Minseok, who stares back with disbelief clear in his slowly widening eyes. “Hello?”

Minseok looks away and wets his lips with his tongue. A nervous gesture, he knows. He doesn’t get why these two are able to see him and Jongdae. It should be impossible for normal human beings.

“Are you alright?” the second one inquires, voice soft and worried, and Minseok doesn’t understand why this stranger is concerned about a lone man in the middle of a park one dark evening.

But they’re talking to him. He, who hasn’t exchanged a word with anyone since Jongdae turned to ice, has finally found someone who can see him. It is an unfathomable thought, knowing he can actually talk with these people, and he suddenly feels short of breath, drowning in the emotions threatening to pull him down.

“I’m not,” Minseok ends up saying, voice hoarse from disuse, refusing to look at them and instead keeping his gaze on Jongdae. “I am not alright. I want to give up.”

The two strangers share a meaningful look. Minseok cannot read it, but they appear to know each other well enough to communicate without spoken words.

“For how long?” the first one asks, smiling softly at Minseok as he slowly approaches him. Minseok doesn’t answer immediately, his attention on the dimple appearing on the man’s cheek when he smiles. More emotions well up in him and he feels stifled. He doesn’t know why. “Aren’t you cold?”

The two strangers are dressed in coats and scarfs, fit for the cold air surrounding them. The man with the dimple is still smiling, his complexion pale just like his companion, whose brown eyes are on the frozen form of Jongdae.

“Ice is my element,” Minseok finally answers, dragging his eyes away from Dimple. “I don’t feel the cold.”

“How long have you been here?” the other man repeats Dimple’s question, eyes not moving from Jongdae.

“I can’t remember.”

“What happened?”

_Frost in the air, a frightening silence. Minseok screams._

“Who are you?” Minseok counters, looking up from his lap and blinking the resurfacing memories away. He’s been tortured enough by them ever since _that_ happened. Their grasp in him is unyielding, never giving him a break. He hates it, but knows it’s what he deserves. “You aren’t normal humans. Humans can’t see us.”

“You’re wrong,” Not-Dimple says, turning away from Jongdae. “We’re normal humans.”

“You must be lying.”

A soft smile. “It’s more a question of not telling the whole truth. We simply reached a decision long ago.”

Minseok still feels suffocated, his shirt too tight, the air he breathes not enough. He bites down on his lower lip.

“It was an accident. I swear.”

“You’re waiting for him, right?” Dimple asks kindly and Minseok nods, fisting his hands in his jeans.

“I’ve been waiting for so long,” he chokes out, closing his eyes and releasing a shaky breath. “I don’t know how much more I can take. I feel it crushing me more every day. I can’t breathe.”

His vision is blurring and he gulps in a lungful of air, grasping at his hair in frustration or some other emotion. He’s not sure, but it’s smothering him.

All this happened because of him. It’s his fault and he can’t undo what he did, no matter how much he wishes for it, no matter how loud he screams or how earnest he pleads.

“What happened?” the other man repeats and something in Minseok snaps, as if he were a branch that had endured being continuously stepped on, only to finally succumb under the weight and break. Maybe it’s all the years he’s had to wait, had to live with no one to talk to, had to live with the knowledge of what he’s done but no knowledge of how to make it right again.

He leaps from the bench and goes to stand before Jongdae, trying to keep the tears of frustration and anger and guilt from welling over. He fails.

“It’s my fault,” he chokes, placing a hand on Jongdae’s cheek only to recoil as if burned, which, given a thought, is ironic, seeing as he commands ice and the man in front of him is literally frozen. “I did this to him. It’s because of me.”

The couple is silent and he turns to face them with tears falling heavily from his eyes. He fists his hands, maybe to stop them from shaking, maybe in fury, maybe something else. “You see? I did this to him! He’s frozen because of me and he’ll stay like this until the end of time! This is my punishment!”

He’s screaming, and yet the two strangers only watch him with thoughtful gazes. Dimple’s eyes shift to Jongdae’s form and he frowns. For some reason, Minseok doesn’t think that’s an expression seen often on the male’s face.

“What happened?”

Minseok lets out a shuddering sob. His emotions are spinning out control just like _that_ time, and a cold hand suddenly grasps at his heart and he’s overcome with dreadful terror. “Leave. _Leave!_ ”

“Nothing will happen,” Not-Dimple says gently. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

And Minseok does, closing his eyes to try and focus on calming the raging storm inside of him. He knows his tears turn to ice the moment they slip from his jaw and fall to the ground in small crystallised drops, and that isn’t supposed to happen. He’s losing control again and he’s terrified. There’s a reason he hasn’t used his power since the incident that ruined everything.

“It’s alright.” A hand is placed on his shoulder and he chokes on the air he tries so desperately to draw in. “You’re in control. Everything’s fine.” It’s Not-Dimple’s voice, he belatedly realises. It has a soothing effect.

When he opens his eyes again, the tears stay in their liquid form as they fall from his eyes, following the wet trail down his cheeks to his jaw and eventually plummeting to the ground.

“Tell us what happened,” Dimple urges, observing Minseok closely. “It might help you.”

“How..?” Minseok whispers, barely loud enough for them to catch. “I can’t stop thinking about it. The memories have haunted me ever since. They haven’t given me a break. I still remember everything as though it happened yesterday.”

“Relaying your story to us might just help you find the answer you seek,” Not-Dimple says and Minseok sags, the anger leaving him like the air in an untied balloon, replaced by resignation and grief.

“We were arguing,” Minseok says softly, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, steeling himself for what he’s about to tell. “It was stupid, really, and to this day, I don’t even remember exactly _what_ we were fighting about…”

_They’re standing close, inhaling the same air, but there’s nothing remotely intimate or sweet about their proximity. On the contrary, there’s a fire in their eyes as they stare each other down, somehow attempting to win the argument with a glare only. Their chests are heaving after having done nothing but shouting at each other for who knows how long, but the silence isn’t going to last for much longer._

_“Is this it, then?”_

_Minseok grinds his teeth. “Don’t be stupid.”_

_“You’re the one who won’t let it go!”_

_“Then don’t bring it up!”_

_“I will if it’s what our relationship has come to!”_

_In their rage, neither Minseok nor Jongdae notice how the temperature suddenly drops around them. “You’re not leaving!”_

_“You can’t stop me!” Jongdae shouts, hands fisted so tightly they’re turning white. “I’m tired of this and I can’t take it anymore!”_

_“Stay right there!” Minseok yells right back and reaches out when Jongdae turns away from the argument. “Jongdae, if you leave now you’ll regret it!”_

_When Jongdae doesn’t listen, ice surrounds his form, and it’s the chill in the air that finally cuts through the rage that fogged Minseok’s mind. Immediately, he drops his still outstretched hand and he blinks, looking at the frozen form of Jongdae standing in front of him. He blinks again, trying to will the sight in front of him away, unable to believe what he’s seeing. It can’t be true. He must be dreaming, but Jongdae is still there even after closing his eyes and keeping them shut until he reaches ten, and that’s when his mind finally starts catching up. That’s when something heavy worms its way into his chest, weighing him down, because he’s very much awake, his reality far worse than a nightmare._

_“What…” he breathes, legs giving out under him. He falls to his knees, eyes not leaving Jongdae for even a second. “No. What did I… Jongdae? Jongdae, answer me!”_

_Something horrible seizes hold of his heart when Jongdae doesn’t move and Minseok lets out a strangled cry, one hand lifting from the floor, only to fall right back when the realisation of what he’s done hits him like a slap in the face._

_He froze him. He lost control and it was not he who paid for it, but Jongdae._

_He’s shaking, his whole body trembling, and he feels nauseas. The first sob forces its way out through his lips, followed by another, and another until his breaths are sporadic and gasping._

_“Jongdae!” he cries, the sound coming out as a shrill and panic-stricken scream. “What did I do, no._ No _. Please… Jongdae, no, no…”_

_“What have you done?”_

_Minseok twists around at the sound of another voice and he stares wide-eyed at the appearance of their friend._

_“Zitao…”_

_“Hyung,_ what have you done? _” Zitao shouts, throwing an arm out in the direction of Jongdae._

_“I- I’m sorry. I don-t know- I- I lost control and-” Minseok sobs, closing his eyes and bringing his shaking hands to his face. “I- I can’t undo it. I can’t unfreeze him, oh my God, I can’t… I froze him, I did this, to him, I…”_

_He’s getting hysterical. He’s shaking even more now and he can’t breathe properly around the sobs and screams and his heart hurts, as though it’s being torn apart inside of his chest. He’s so empty and he wants to throw up. He feels so much hate at himself, so much despair._

_“Hyung.” Zitao’s insistent voice breaks through to Minseok just enough for him to lift tear-filled eyes to look at Zitao, more cries and pleads leaving his lips. “Hyung, I’m going to stop time for him. He won’t survive if I don’t.”_

_It takes a minute for his words to register in Minseok’s mind, and then he’s up at an impossible speed and has grabbed Zitao’s collar, dragging him down to eye level. The desperation must clearly show, because Zitao’s eyes soften as Minseok begs. “Turn back time, Zitao, please. I have to stop myself, Zitao, please, with your powers…”_

_It’s with a thick swallow that Zitao continues, shaking his head._

_“I can’t, hyung,” he says softly, slowly reaching up to pry Minseok’s hands off him. “You have to do this. I can only provide you with time and a chance. When Jongdae awakens, time will be restored for the both of you.”_

_“No… No, Zitao… I can’t, I can’t unfreeze… I can’t undo what I’ve done,” Minseok says, sinking to his knees again. “I can’t.”_

_“I’m sorry, hyung,” Zitao says, and he sounds sincere. “I really am, but only you can save him. It’s not my place to step in.”_

_As Zitao stops the time around them, Minseok continues to cry. He shouts and he pleads and he feels like something’s tearing him apart._

_He’s lost Jongdae._

_“It is done. Save him, hyung. You’re the only one who can. Don’t give up.”_

_And then Zitao’s gone as quick as he came, leaving Minseok alone with his mistakes, with a Jongdae who’s frozen and a nip in the air that wasn’t there before. It is all he can do to look up, to see the results of his outburst, and the guilt and sorrow has him doubling over on the ground._

_It’s all his fault._

“He’s right, you know.”

Minseok looks up from where he had been studying the grass and finds the two strangers standing in front of him. Their eyes show sympathy, but also a steely determination, and Minseok swallows dryly.

“Your friend,” Not-Dimple clarifies after a moment. “You shouldn’t give up on him.”

Not-Dimple goes to stand in front of him and Minseok faintly registers that the other is just a hair taller than him. The man places his hands on Minseok’s shoulders and leans down slightly to meet his eyes.

“The answer is there,” he insists, his tone kind but firm. “You’ll know soon. Trust that and _don’t give up_ , okay?”

“We believe in you,” Dimple adds and smiles. “Good luck.”

“You’re leaving?” Minseok asks dumbly, his tone flat. He feels neither sad nor angry. Just empty. Always empty.

“Only you can save him,” Not-Dimple says and pats his shoulder. “And you _will_ , I know you will.” His hands fall from Minseok’s shoulders and he steps back, sharing another look with Dimple. “Search for the answer in your heart.”

As they walk away, out of earshot for Minseok, the one with the dimple leans closer to his companion to whisper, “Jun… Why didn’t we tell him?”

“It’s not in our place to do that, Xing,” Junmyeon sighs, reaching for Yixing’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’re not a part of that world anymore. We should not interfere any more than we already have.

“But don’t be too concerned,” he says as he steals a glance over his shoulder and sees Minseok still standing in front of Jongdae. “He’ll be fine. They’ll be fine. I know they will.”

Yixing releases a breath and allows another smile to find its way to his lips. His eyes take on that dreamy look again now that they’re alone and he leans closer to Junmyeon. “Alright. I trust you, Jun.”

With the pair gone, Minseok is once again left alone with his thoughts. He stares at Jongdae, his eyes taking in everything he’s already memorised. It’s the look in Jongdae’s gaze he dislikes the most. It’s carefully stripped of emotions and Minseok fists his shirt right where his heart is when he feels the sting the memory produces.

“For how long, Jongdae..?” he asks. “For how long must I wait? For how long must I suffer? I know I deserve it, but I feel like I’m dying.” He chokes and wipes the tears once again spilling from his eyes away. “It’s awful, Jongdae, but do you know what’s worse?”

His knuckles turn white and he looks down on his feet, clamping his eyes shut. “It’s knowing _why_ I feel like this. It’s knowing that you’re right in front of me, yet not, because you’re frozen, and _I did that to you_. How can I ever right my wrongs?

“I haven’t heard your voice in _years_ , Jongdae. I’m starting to forget how you sound, no matter how much I try to remember.”

He feels so lost and he wants to hit something, if only to prove he is physically there, to prove he is still able to feel something other than heartache and regret. He’s broken down before this night, but today, on this evening, he seems even more fragile. It might have to do with finally talking to someone and relaying his story to them. After going silent for so long, recalling that day with someone else, strangers, has left him with a surge of fresh remorse, as if the act of telling them had only reaffirmed his guilt.

A strangled sob escapes him and he once again sinks to his knees, hands folded in his lap as he looks up at Jongdae with teary eyes.

“How long must I wait? How long, Jongdae? _How long?_ Days, weeks, months, they all go by in a blur. I can’t tell them apart anymore. How long must I suffer, waiting for you to return to me?”

When his only answer is silence, his voice grows louder. More desperate.

“ _Jongdae!_ ” he screams, hitting the ground beneath him with a hardened fist. “I want you to come back to me, please, come back! I can’t stand this!”

He sucks in a shuddering breath and hits the ground again, uncaring for the wounds he might gain. Any cuts and scrapes from his actions would hardly matter next to the pain in his chest.

“ _I’m sorry_ , okay? I’m sorry and I want you back! _Why can’t you hear me!_ ” He thinks he might be going insane from waiting. “Please… Please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I never meant to do that to you! I’d rather take my own life than hurt you!”

He muffles the sobs against the earth, eyes closed and feeling so tired, so drained. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry… Please… I need you…”

“Took you long enough.”

Minseok freezes, dread gnawing at his heart. _Is_ he going insane? That voice…

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder and he jolts, eyes snapping up, and a broken sound leaves him at the sight of Jongdae, _crouched in front of him_. Not frozen, but alive, and smiling at him like he always did.

“ _Jongdae,_ ” Minseok wails, reaching out and wrapping his arms around Jongdae’s neck, burying his face against his throat. “I’m sorry, I never meant for you to…” He chokes again when he feels strong arms wrap around him and hold him tight as if intending to never let go. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Jongdae says, and even with the slight shake in the tone it still comes out warm and sincere and everything Minseok doesn’t deserve. How Minseok has missed his voice, his scent, his embrace, _everything_. “I’m alright. We’re alright.”

And Minseok believes him, watching as the light autumn breeze rustles the man’s hair for the first time in ages.

**Author's Note:**

> You have *no* idea of how much I wanted to end this on a sad note. I was so tempted – but then I started writing and halfway through, I decided on the current ending. Aren’t you happy? I'll save the tragedy for another time.
> 
> I’m actually pretty satisfied with this one. It doesn't happen often, so I really, really hope you liked it :’)
> 
> Currently, I have two other ideas in the working. One is Kaisoo and will have Kyungsoo as a chef or something and Jongin as a photographer. Yay. Another is SuChen and… Well. At the time being, it’s in the doghouse because it refuses to do as I say, so meh.
> 
> I'm writing on another chaptered EXO fic, Watching the World Turn. It’s my take on MAMA. Ish. I'd be delighted if you checked that one out, too. And speaking of, I probably ought to put my focus back on that (but this one begged to be written and who am I to refuse my muse?)
> 
> Thanks for reading! It means a lot to me and I hope it was worth your time.


End file.
